The Santa Question

Me at 15 with Santa (aka my granddad, Sam Scott)

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***SPOILER ALERT: ***
If you've been stressed all month about
whether you're going to make Santa's 'Nice' list...
DO NOT READ THIS!
It'll just upset you.

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     I never believed in Santa.

     I always knew that it was my parents who bought the Christmas presents in our house.  I had three older brothers that set me straight early on.  I don't even remember being told.   To me, Santa was always just a story that gullible kids believed.

     One year at a church dinner a man asked me what Santa was bringing me.  I was, maybe, 5 years old.  I said I knew that there was no Santa, but he was adamant in Santa's defense.  At first I thought he was just pulling my leg, but he seemed so sincere I had to conclude that no one had ever told him the truth.

     That's when I learned to play along with whatever someone was saying about Santa.  I didn't want to wreck anyone's faith.  Still, this was a grown man.  I wanted to reason with him-tell him that the guy in the red suit, sitting in the big chair out in the Fellowship Hall, couldn't be Santa.

     It was so obvious it was Mr. Huebner.  I'd seen Mr. Huebner every Sunday of my life and this man had been coming to our church as long as I remembered.  Mr. Huebner was from Germany.   I knew it wasn't a coincidence that Santa had a German accent and a white mustache.   I couldn't get over that this guy couldn't figure it out!

     My Grandad Scott and Mr. Huebner took turns playing Santa.  Mr. Huebner and  Granddaddy were friends.  They were also both ushers at church.  They greeted people, laughed at each other's jokes, passed the collection plate, sat in two chairs at the back of the sanctuary, and took turns nudging each other awake during the sermon.  (Though, occasionally, I'd look back to see them both sawing logs.)

     Knowing it was them, and not believing in the stories about Santa, didn't make Christmas any less magic.    There were still presents, surprises, secrets, wishes coming true, lights and sparkly ornaments.  There were still cousins at the kid's table, red velvet dresses, my Grandmother Stewart's fudge, and Mom's divinity with pecans. There were still advent candles being lit, and carols about wise men following a bright star to a humble manger.

     I'll never forget the year I was brought into our living room to find an amazing dollhouse.  It was giant!  Even as an adult it looks big, but back then it was taller than I was.

     Still, I didn't think Santa brought it.  My dad had been working out in his shop for weeks.  The shop that suddenly had a lock on the door.  And now none of us kids were allowed in.

     The term "Duh!" wasn't used back then, but it sums up the transparency of the situation.  Still, that didn't spoil Christmas for me.  Christmas was everywhere.

     I don't remember ever receiving a wrapped present from either my Granddad or Mr. Huebner.   But they didn't need red suits, reindeer, or presents.  They were sweet men, who were always kind to me.  They both had a twinkle in their eyes all year 'round.

     When I think of it, they were better than Santa.  They were always available for a hug, or to climb up in their laps and have a talk.

     And every year I did, pretty much, get what I asked for...no matter who was in the red suit listening to my list of Barbie's, pink sweaters, puppies, and a Twister game...



     Come to think of it...maybe I believe in Santa Claus after all.

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Whether you believe in Santa or not...
I hope you get to share the love and magic 
at the heart of this season.  
Merry Christmas to one and all!